by Mary Daheim
The cousins stood motionless on the bottom two steps. A long silence ensued. Judith felt as if she didn’t dare breathe.
“Why should Rudi care?” Suzanne finally said, graduating from irritation to anger. “He should be glad you’ll be rich.”
Another silence, though briefer.
“What does it matter? Dolph’s dead, so he can’t do any more damage than he did twenty-five years ago. Wake up, Fritz. This is your big chance. Our big chance. I’m going to buy a gym. You can run it.”
An even shorter pause.
“But New York is where everything’s happening. Who needs trees? Oh, stop arguing! I’ll call you back in half an hour. Your mother will still be at the bookstore, right?…Okay.” Suzanne hung up.
Judith decided to wait for Suzanne’s next move. It sounded as if she was still in the kitchen, perhaps looking up the airline’s number in the directory. But a moment later, the cousins heard her walk out of the kitchen—and close the front door.
“Where’s she going?” Renie asked as she and Judith descended into the hallway.
“I don’t know,” Judith replied. “Let’s go see.”
In the entry hall they met Estelle, who was just coming down the main staircase. “Where’s Miss Suzanne?” the maid demanded.
Judith looked out through the window in the door. “She’s going over to the Wittener house, but I don’t think they’re home.”
Estelle barged past the cousins and yanked open the front door. “Suzanne!” she called. “Come back here! Now!”
Suzanne kept going. Estelle hurried out of the house. Suzanne, who had cut across the cul-de-sac, reached the sidewalk in front of the Wittener rental. The maid started to follow the same route, but was suddenly cut off by the arrival of a large SUV. Rankers children, grandchildren, and a couple of dogs tumbled out of the vehicle, accompanied by various yelps, shouts, and whoops of hilarity. Estelle was ambushed by a barking Boston terrier, which seemed to find her thick ankles extremely attractive.
“Tulip!” Arlene shouted from around the hedge. “Don’t bite the nice lady!”
Tulip, however, ignored the command. Estelle stumbled and fell against the front of the SUV. By the time Judith looked across the cul-de-sac, Suzanne had disappeared.
The herd of Rankerses went into the house. Arlene came to the rescue. The second dog—a cocker spaniel named Farky Two—followed the humans. But Tulip sat in the street by Estelle, barking his—or, Judith thought, maybe her—head off.
“Come, Tulip. Leave the nice lady alone. She won’t hurt you. She only looks mean.”
Estelle looked more furious than mean. Tulip didn’t budge. Arlene scooped up the dog, which began to lick her face. “I love you, too, Tulip,” she said. “Let’s go inside so you can bite Carl.”
Judith finally came out to the edge of the porch. “Are you okay, Ms. Pearson?”
Estelle shot her a dirty look. “What do you think? I’ll be black-and-blue for a week,” she declared, clinging to the SUV’s radiator grille to get to her feet. “This is the most violent place I’ve ever visited! I was in Los Angeles during the Rodney King riots in 1992, and they were nothing compared to this neighborhood!”
Judith refrained from mentioning that the Kluger clan seemed to have brought the current violence upon themselves. “Do you need anything?” she asked as Estelle limped toward the house.
The maid examined her arms and legs. “I’m bruised, not broken,” she muttered. “I’m going to lie down.” Estelle made her laborious way inside.
Renie came out on the porch to join Judith. “Where’s Suzanne?”
“Beats me,” Judith replied. “Maybe Rudi or Taryn came home after Arlene was over there.”
“Or they wouldn’t come to the door when Arlene called on them,” Renie suggested.
“There’s a car in front of the Wittener place,” Judith noted. “It’s that blue Honda I’ve seen before. I think it belongs to Elsa Wittener.”
“I thought Suzanne said on the phone that Elsa was working at the bookstore.”
Judith glanced at her watch. It was going on four o’clock. The day had flown by. “Elsa seems to have a key to her ex’s house. I wonder if she’s on a break. I don’t like this.”
“You mean Suzanne and Elsa facing off while Rudi and Taryn are away?”
“Exactly.” Judith looked up at the shifting gray clouds. The rain had dwindled to a drizzle. “But I don’t think we should interfere.”
“Excuse me,” Renie said in an uncharacteristically humble voice, “are you back on the case or just being compassionate?”
Judith walked over to the porch swing and sat down. Typical for September in the Pacific Northwest, the weather was mild—if wet. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I got so caught up in Suzanne’s pathetic life story that I got sucked in again. The problem with these awful situations is that they always involve people. And I’m a chump when it comes to feeling sorry for them.”
Renie sat next to Judith in the swing. “So…?”
“So I feel compelled to help.” Judith’s expression was ironic. “Am I a sap?”
“No.” Renie smiled fondly at her cousin. “You’ve got a huge heart. You’re lucky, really. Mine’s the size of a pea.”
“Not really, coz,” Judith said. “You simply don’t like to show—oh, good grief! Look who just limped into the cul-de-sac!”
Renie looked. “Gregory Whoozits? Swell. What now?”
Gregory was coming straight toward Hillside Manor. He was wearing his long black raincoat and carried a black umbrella. Seeing the cousins, he pointed a finger in their direction.
“I’m back,” he said as he reached the porch steps. “Where’s Suzanne?”
“Not here,” Judith replied. “Where’ve you been, Gregory?”
“With my aunt,” he said, coming up onto the porch. “She made me lunch. We had egg-salad sandwiches.”
“Does your aunt live around here?” Judith inquired.
“Just a block away,” Gregory said, standing by the porch railing and surveying the cul-de-sac.
Judith nodded. “That would be your Aunt Olive, right?”
“What?” Gregory seemed distracted. “Oh—yes. My aunt raised me after my mother hanged herself.” He pointed to the Honda on the other side of the cul-de-sac. “Who owns that car?”
“I’m not sure,” Judith hedged. “Back up, if you don’t mind, Gregory. You say your mother hanged herself?”
“I think so. She’s dead, at any rate.” He turned to look at Renie. “Can you tell me more about my past, present, and future?”
Renie seemed as startled as Judith felt. “I’m not sure,” she said. “The muse isn’t with me.” She felt Judith nudge her with an elbow. “But I can try. Want to go inside? Maybe I left my muse on the hat rack in the entry hall.” Leading the way, Renie was followed by Gregory, with Judith behind him.
“Let me get you some water, coz,” Judith said. “Gregory? Is there anything you’d like?”
“No, thanks.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m still full. Aunt Olive and I ate a late lunch. She made lots of tea.”
Gregory wandered into the living room while Judith and Renie went into the kitchen.
“What am I supposed to do?” Renie whispered. “Conjure up Frederica again?”
“Try it,” Judith urged. “If not, go for Olive. Gregory is clearly off his rocker.”
“Who isn’t in this ménage?” Renie grumbled, accepting the ice water from Judith. “Okay, here goes Swami. Damn.”
“I’ll be lurking in the entry hall,” Judith said.
Judith stood just out of sight by the threshold to the living room. She assumed Renie and Gregory were by the fireplace.
“I’m sorry I don’t have my wand with me,” Judith heard Renie say, referring to the cattle prod she’d used in her earlier session as a bogus seer. “But the ashes will serve almost as well. I’ll use the poker to stir them up.”
“Can I ask questions?” Gregory inquired.
“Sure, why not? I mean,” Renie clarified, “the ashes may or may not respond.”
A brief silence ensued. “Well,” Renie said in an awe-struck voice. “I see her again. Frederica. She’s holding something.”
“What is it?” Gregory asked eagerly.
“I can’t tell. It’s not very big. That is, it’s sort of…medium.”
“Aren’t you the medium?”
“No. Mediums do séances. That’s not my bag. Hmmm…”
“Is Frederica holding a baby?”
“Let me see…yes, you’re right, it is a baby. Frederica seems puzzled.”
“Yes, yes, she would be. Upset, confused, distraught.”
“And frustrated,” Renie added. “She’s in a predicament. What to do, what to do.”
“Do you see a noose?”
“A moose? No, but that could be an elk in—”
“A noose,” Gregory repeated.
“Oh!” Renie cleared her throat. “Sorry. These twigs on the hearth look like antlers. But of course they’re a rope. How stupid of me.”
“I’m the baby,” Gregory said.
Judith wished she were in Renie’s place. Would her cousin ask the right questions? Could she guess the mother’s name? Would Gregory volunteer it?
“The woman looks familiar,” Renie said. “I’ve seen her before—”
“Frederica!” Gregory exclaimed. “That was my mother’s name. You saw her when you did this earlier.”
“Yes. Yes!” Renie exulted. “She loved Pink Floyd.”
Aha, Judith thought. Renie was on the right track.
“It kept my father from marrying her,” Gregory said in a sad voice. “He couldn’t marry anyone who liked popular music. Instead, he married somebody else just after I was born.” Gregory sighed so loudly that Judith could hear him. “Aunt Olive’s been good to me,” he said, his voice more normal. Or as normal as this guy gets, Judith thought. “I call my mother Frederica because she was Aunt Olive’s sister, so we always use her given name. What else do you see?”
“Aluminum foil,” Renie replied. “That won’t burn. It should go in the garbage can.”
“What?” Gregory sounded puzzled.
“I mean silver,” Renie said quickly. “Not a silver spoon, as in born with one in your mouth. But a gift, a talent for music. You showed an interest in music from an early age.”
“How true!” The excitement had returned to Gregory’s voice.
Renie spoke a trifle louder. “Ah. I also see a small ape. He has glass eyes and is watching TV.”
Judith gritted her teeth. Oscar. Why couldn’t Renie stick to the point? She was mentioning that damned stuffed ape only to rile Judith.
“What’s he watching?” Gregory asked, sounding puzzled.
“Girls in bikinis. He’s drooling,” Renie said. “Uh-oh. The TV picture has changed. There’s a large man on the screen now. He’s talking about Fritz Kreisler. Oscar—I mean, the little ape—just fell off the sofa.”
“My father!” Gregory cried. “Is he talking about the violin bow?”
“I can’t tell,” Renie said, her voice returning to normal. “I gather the large man’s no longer with us. He’s with Frederica.”
“Yes. And that’s good.” There was a pause. “Now,” Gregory said, “tell me where my inheritance is.”
“Your…” Renie hesitated. “Oh, yes, of course. That violin bow. Let me see…Ah! Part of it is here in this house.”
“I knew it!” Gregory cried. “That’s why I came here the first time! Where is it? Please!”
“Well…it’s not exactly all here,” Renie said haltingly. “Only the horsehair part.”
Gregory exploded. “What?”
“Hey—back off! I don’t have it,” Renie said in an annoyed tone. “Oh, darn—everything has gone dark. I can’t go on.”
“I want to see the part that’s left,” Gregory said, still sounding shaken. “Why would anyone dismantle it?”
“Good question,” Renie said. “All the better to hide it, I suppose. Do you know who stole it?”
“Rudi stole it the first time,” Gregory replied. “I don’t know who stole it from him—unless nobody did, and he’s lying.”
Judith strolled into the living room. “Are you finished?”
“Yes,” Renie said. “The muse fled just before I made a complete ash of myself.”
“Any startling revelations?” Judith inquired in a casual tone.
“I’ll let Gregory tell you,” Renie replied. “I’m only the instrument.”
Gregory, who had been kneeling on the floor by Renie in front of the hearth, stood up and wiped his hands on his raincoat. “You think I’m a fraud, don’t you?” he said to Judith.
“I don’t think anything,” Judith said innocently. “I heard Suzanne’s vilifications, but that doesn’t mean I believe them.”
Renie moved around the coffee table. “I’m going to wash up. I’ve wrecked this thousand-dollar suit. I should’ve changed clothes.”
Judith nodded vaguely at her cousin. “So what did the seer see?” she asked, sitting down opposite Gregory on the matching sofas.
“She’s good,” Gregory said, rubbing his thin hands together. “She saw me when I was a baby. She saw Frederica—my mother. She saw Dolph, my father. She told me the horsehair part is here. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is,” Judith said. “But that’s not valuable, is it?”
“No,” Gregory agreed. “I wish she could see the rest of it.”
“Look,” Judith said, trying to judge Gregory’s mental stability, “you say that Rudi stole the bow from you. Yet Rudi claims it was stolen from him. Can you explain that to me?”
Gregory sighed. “It’s really simple. When I was growing up, my father—Dolph—kept track of me. He sent money and wrote letters and even called me sometimes. I met him in Europe for the first time when I was nineteen. It wasn’t his fault that my mother—Frederica—was kind of…neurotic. I mean, lots of women have babies when they’re not married, especially these days. Gosh, she’d been to Woodstock! You’d think she’d have been liberated. And she loved music—but the wrong kind, as far as Dolph was concerned.” He paused. “Have you got a banana? That ape made me hungry for one.”
“Yes,” Judith replied. “I have bananas. And some people I know have gone bananas.”
Gregory frowned. “Who do you mean?”
“Never mind,” Judith said.
“Oh.” Gregory’s expression lightened. “That Trennkost diet is getting me down. I don’t think it’s good for you in the long run. Aunt Olive doesn’t think so, either. But she didn’t have any fresh fruit.”
Judith called to Renie, who was coming back into the room. “Can you get Gregory a banana? There are some in a bowl on the counter.”
“Sure,” Renie said. “I think I’ll have one, too.” She reversed her route and disappeared.
“The bow,” Judith reminded Gregory.
“Oh, yes. The bow.” Gregory frowned. “Anyway, Dolph told me that if I could master the violin, he’d give it to me. He’d gotten it from Fritz Kreisler. But I never learned to play well enough. Dolph said that he’d keep it for my inheritance because it’d be worth a ton of money someday. I don’t care about the money. But I did want the bow. And then I found out that Rudi has it!” His face darkened and he tugged at his short beard. “I was furious. Why Rudi? Just because he plays in a symphony orchestra? That’s no big deal. Rudi must have swiped it.”
Renie came back with three bananas. She handed one to Gregory and offered another to Judith.
“Why not?” Judith murmured. “I could use the potassium. Unless you want to take it home to You Know Who.”
“We have plenty of our own,” Renie said. “But thanks for being so considerate.”
Judith ignored the sarcasm. She accepted the banana and took a moment to collect her thoughts. Did Gregory know that Rudi was also Dolph’s son? Was the young man aware that his father seemed to have c
onsidered himself responsible for populating the world with musical geniuses? A serial impregnator, Judith thought. “Why Rudi?” she finally asked. “That is, why might Dolph have given the violin bow to Rudi instead of someone else?”
“He shouldn’t have,” Gregory replied indignantly. “It’s mine!”
Judith realized she couldn’t argue the point. “I see,” she said.
Gregory’s mood shifted as he concentrated on peeling the banana. He worked very carefully, splitting the fruit with a fingernail and pulling down the skin segments one at a time. He studied the banana closely. “It looks unblemished,” he declared.
“Oh, good,” Renie said, having devoured a third of hers already. “How about some rhubarb?”
Gregory gave a start. “I hate rhubarb! It’s bitter, like gall!”
“Aweed,” Renie said, her mouth full of banana.
“It might as well be a weed,” Gregory said. “It’s not a fruit, it’s not a vegetable—it’s nothing.”
“My cousin,” Judith clarified, “said she agreed.”
“Oh.” Gregory shrugged. “Could I see the horsehair?”
Judith couldn’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t have a look. “I’ll get it,” she said.
Judith had reached the entry hall when the doorbell rang. One glance told her that Olive Oglethorpe was on the porch. “Ms. Oglethorpe,” Judith said. “Come in. Are you looking for Gregory?”
“Yes!” Olive’s smooth cheeks were pink. “He’s here?”
“In the living room,” Judith replied.
Olive marched past Judith. “Gregory!” she cried. “You shouldn’t have left me. How often have I told you not to go wandering off?”
“I came to find the bow,” Gregory responded, defensive. “You know I won’t rest until it’s mine.”
“Well?” Fists on hips, Olive planted her sturdy little body in front of the coffee table. “Do you have it?”